


Let Sleeping Demons Lie

by BookishAngel (DisnerdingAvenger)



Series: An Angel and a Demon [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Humor, Internal Conflict, M/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisnerdingAvenger/pseuds/BookishAngel
Summary: Aziraphale went upstairs to fetch a sweater. Instead, he found a very naked Crowley asleep in his unused bed.





	Let Sleeping Demons Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a prompt fill on Tumblr. Have a prompt request? Send it my way @ apictureofspace!

Aziraphale rarely used the bedroom located above his bookshop; in fact, he rarely used the flat above it in general. Everything he truly needed -  _books and the kitchen_  - were easily accessible on the first floor. If he was being honest, the second-floor flat really just served as a glorified walk-in closet. After all, he preferred the tactile nature of actually shopping for clothes rather than just miracling them into existence (unlike  _some_  people), which meant he needed a place to store them. 

On a particularly nippy March morning approximately three years after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, Aziraphale decided to pay a visit to his closet- er...  _flat_. The white sweater that he was presently wearing just wasn’t warm enough and he rather fancied a walk to the bakery down the street. They had the most  _delightful_ poppy seed muffins. 

It was while rummaging through the wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom (that he never used) that he heard a rustling of sheets directly behind him, nearly having a heart attack when he whirled around - which would have been quite unfortunate. He liked this body and wasn’t anywhere near ready to be discorporated yet. Once he realized who the perpetrator was, though, he came  _very close_  to that ever-so-unfortunate discorporation. 

It wasn’t a home invader who had decided to take a nap in his bed, which had been his first thought; after all, he’d read  _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_. ( _ **He’d actually proofread it back in 1836; Robert Southey was a dear friend**._) No, the guilty party currently residing in his bed was Crowley, and - 

“My dear! What  _ever_  are you doing?”

Stretching beneath Aziraphale’s pristine, never-slept-in white sheets and duvet in a way that only a snake could ever manage, Crowley flopped back down on his stomach, one arm curled protectively around a pillow while the other lolled over the side of the bed.

“Isn’t it obvious? ‘M napping.”

“In my bed?”

“Mmmfhmm,” was the muffled noise that sounded against the pillow and, his blue gaze drifting down the length of Crowley’s exposed spine to where the blankets rested just-so at his hips, Aziraphale felt his corporation blush as he squeaked out - 

“My dear boy -  _are you naked?_ ”

Crowley’s answer was unintelligible, buried as deeply in the pillow as his nose presently was, and Aziraphale huffed, diverting his gaze to the ceiling - and perhaps to Heaven - as he asked, “ _What_  did you say?”

“I said,” Crowley snapped, clearly less than amused at being prevented from going back to sleep, “of  _course_  I’m naked. I always sleep naked.”

“In my bed?”

“When the opportunity presents itself.”

“And when, precisely, did the opportunity present itself?”

“Last time we went to the Ritz. We came back here and had that wonderful sauvignon blanc - or... y’know... seven of ‘em. Think we were talkin’ about whether or not platypuses lay eggs.”

“They don’t.”

“They _do_.”

“They _don’t_ \- hang on.” Pausing, Aziraphale began to tick figures off on his hands, his eyes widening as he exclaimed, “Crowley, the last time we went to the Ritz was two weeks ago!”

“Mmmph,” came the muffled reply, for Crowley had stuffed his face back into the pillow. 

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed,  _naked_ , for  _two weeks_  and you didn’t even ask me?!”

“Didn’t feel like making the trip home,” Crowley justified, finally rolling over and letting an arm come to loll behind his head. Arching an eyebrow above a yellow eye, the demon asked, “Does it bother you?”

“Does  _what_  bother me?”

“Me sleeping naked in your bed.”

“I...  _well_ , I...” 

Aziraphale was definitely blushing now and he was quite certain that even his ethereal soul would be blushing if such a thing were possible. Huffing, he diverted his gaze to stare at the wall instead of at Crowley’s fetchingly rumpled hair, muttering, “You could have  _asked_  first.”

“And if I had, would you have let me?”

Pursing his lips, the angel flit his gaze down to the blue sweater still grasped tightly in his hands, sighing and pulling it on over the white one he was already wearing. The extra layers of warmth would do him good on his walk - and he was  _hardly_  going to change in front of Crowley. The demon was undressed enough for the both of them combined. 

“I don’t see why not,” Aziraphale finally replied, as nonchalantly as he could manage. “It’s not as if I use it; someone might as well.”

“We could use it together,” Crowley replied, in a shockingly casual sort of way - one that left Aziraphale spluttering, his blue eyes wide, and his voice nothing but a series of squeaks.

“Well, I... I...  _I never!_ That is, I  _would_  never! I can’t believe you would even  _suggest_  such a thing-”

“I was talking about _taking a nap_ , angel,” Crowley cut in, frowning, rather offended by the angel’s abruptness. “Would that really be so terrible?”

Clamping his mouth shut, his hands still anxiously fidgeting, Aziraphale blew a flustered breath out of his nose. Truthfully, he had seriously considered taking a long nap after the ordeal of preventing the apocalypse and the tremendous amount of anxiety that followed and still lingered even now, three years later. But he couldn’t. Divine Grace never sleeps. 

And it certainly doesn’t do what he’d thought Crowley was proposing - 

\- even if he has thought about it, from time to time... and perhaps more frequently in recent years. Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, choosing not to dwell on _that_  train of thought, Aziraphale opted to change the subject entirely, stating, “I’m off to the bakery down the street for poppy seed muffins. You’re more than welcome to stay and nap if you wish - but do come down for tea later. Now that I know you’re here, it would be rude of me not to ask  _and_  for you not to come.”

Not to mention, now that he knew Crowley was here, in his present state of undress, it was likely all that he would be able to think about until he once again saw the demon fully-clothed. 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering: platypuses do, in fact, lay eggs.


End file.
